to me, Cynthia, and I’ll not have you living in the attic.”
“Another room then—”
“There are two new maids in residence, plus young Adam. If we are to keep your presence a secret, we must not raise suspicion.”
Cynthia rubbed a hand over her eyes. Was he saying that he’d keep her hidden from her family?
Lancaster touched her cheek, and she jumped as if a spark had drifted from the fireplace and landed on her skin. “We will work out a plan in the morning. But for now, you’ll stay here. I’ll be back in a few moments.”
She jumped to her feet when he turned away. “Where are you going?”
“I must inform Mrs. Pell of the situation.”
“No! Not like this, not in the middle of the night. She’s old. Her heart…”
“If I don’t tell her this instant, she will likely suffer an apoplexy while she is beating me with a broom in the morning.”
“But…I don’t want her to know! She might…tell…” Oh, she couldn’t even finish her ridiculous claim.
Lancaster, just a foot from the door, turned back to her, frowning. He crossed his arms and Cynthia cringed. If he found out the truth he might very well turn Mrs. Pell out. Not for hiding Cynthia, but for lying to his face. No gentleman would support such insubordination.
If Mrs. Pell lost her position, Cynthia would never, ever forgive herself. “I…” she stammered.
Strangely, Lancaster smiled as if he’d just heard an outrageous joke. His brown eyes twinkled as Cyn shook in her stockings. “Really, Cynthia.” He chuckled. “You are nearly as poor a liar as Mrs. Pell. It’s a wonder you two have managed to pull this off without me.”
“Ah…Pardon?”
He laughed harder. “You look just like you did that time I caught you spying on the village boys swimming in the buff!”
She immediately forgot her nervousness and snapped straight. “I never did!” she gasped before remembering that she, in fact, had. Worse than that, she’d followed them to the beach in anticipation of catching just such a show.
“Ha! I see it’s all coming back to you now. There were five or six very naked young men, if I recall.”
The blood beneath her face was coming to a boil. “Nick,” she scolded, forgetting she’d meant never to call him that again.
That one word broke the tension in the room. Lancaster shook his head, his smile gentling.
She took a deep breath. “Please do not be angry with Mrs. Pell. She wanted to tell you and I begged her not to. Don’t put her out.”
“Put her out? Are you mad? How could I possibly be angry with her when she may very well have saved your life?”
That pulled her out of her worrying. Her own mother had clucked and dismissed Cynthia’s assertions that she would not survive being married to Richmond. But Lancaster seemed to accept it as a point of fact.
“Come now,” he said. “We will discuss all this in the morning. Into bed with you. Are you hungry, thirsty?”
“No.”
He shooed her toward the bed with his hands.
“But where will you sleep?”
“I’ll sneak into the chamber next door.”
As Cynthia watched in weary shock, Lancaster locked the door to the hallway and gestured toward the door to the adjoining room.
“I’ll be right there. The lock should keep the maids from stumbling upon you.”
“This is all unnecessary,” she protested, but Lancaster was shaking his head.
“Nonsense. Good night.”
“Oh, well then. Good night.” And he was gone. Just like that. An echo of his old place in her life. An all-consuming force one moment and then vanished in the blink of an eye.
She could only stand there, staring at the fading green paint of the door, her cheek still tingling faintly from his brief, meaningless touch.
When the door opened again, she blinked.
“Pardon me, but…” He peeked in. “You will be here in the morning, won’t you, Cyn?”
She thought about it for a moment. Should she run? Really, there was no point in fleeing now that he knew she was alive. “Yes, I’ll be here,” she said carefully.
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
The relief in his gaze warmed something deep in her belly. “Good.” The latch clicked shut.
A few minutes passed before she lowered herself to the bed. Somehow it seemed disarmingly intimate to be in his bed, and even more so knowing he might reappear through the door at any moment and find her snuggled in. But the clock ticked the minutes away from somewhere on the floor, and the room was cold. When her tension began to melt away, Cynthia wilted.
Her nights had been nearly sleepless since he’d returned to Cantry Manor, and the soft mattress proved irresistible. There was nothing to be done. Her masquerade was over. She could accomplish nothing tonight. Tomorrow she would argue her case, and shape her plans to Nick’s response.
She curled into the bed. The pillow surrounded her with his scent when she lay her head on it, and Cynthia fell asleep just as she had so many times as a young girl…dreaming of Nicholas Cantry.
How in the world could she sleep?
Leaning against the doorway, Lancaster shook his head, never taking his eyes off the slight rise in the covers where Cynthia Merrithorpe slept.
She was alive. Didn’t she realize how amazing that was? Though perhaps she’d had time to get used to the idea.
He laughed at the thought, half hoping she might wake up and keep him company. But Cynthia slept on, clearly exhausted. When she woke, perhaps the dark circles under her eyes would have faded.
He pushed off the wall and turned back to his cold, dark chamber. Though he’d found a moth-eaten blanket in a chest, he didn’t bother lying down. All his attempts at sleep so far had failed, and dawn was less than an hour off.
Each time he’d closed his eyes the fear that Cynthia would disappear again would rise like a starving beast in his mind. Either she would sneak off while he slept, or her presence would reveal itself to be a bittersweet dream when he woke in the morning. He’d found himself rising every ten minutes to ease open the door and stare at her shadowed form. He’d long since given up and left the door propped open as he paced the hours away.
She wasn’t dead, he hadn’t caused her death, and he would not have to kill Richmond to avenge her.
“Then
